


Write Here (Write Now)

by taxingtaurus



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: AU, F/M, Tumblr Prompts, oneshots
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-16
Updated: 2016-04-16
Packaged: 2018-06-02 13:28:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6568168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taxingtaurus/pseuds/taxingtaurus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collected of prompt responses originally posted on tumblr</p>
            </blockquote>





	Write Here (Write Now)

**Author's Note:**

> A-beautybutafunny-girl asked: Can you write an AU based on the tumblr post that says: “I once stalked my boyfriend’s ex on social media for like seven months and I was feeding info back to him like “omg she had a baby” and one day I showed him a photo of her with the baby and he was like erm babe that’s not my ex… It turned out I had been stalking some random girl with the same name as his ex, but I had become so invested in this girl’s life that I had to reach out to her and tell her this bizarre story about how I’d been accidentally stalking her for seven months and she thought it was hilarious and anyway that’s the story of how I met my best friend.”
> 
> Like Felicity stalking the wrong laurel (but it's still the laurel in the show, just....Oliver was dating a different laurel. Or something.)

It’s the tenth night in a row they’ve settled down to watch baseball after dinner, and Felicity can’t take anymore. She’s bored; unbearably so. There’s no denying it.

Their domestic routine started like any other, the two of them naturally finding a pattern that revolved around the other. Comfortable and safe, so very contrary to the lives they had known before.

The mornings start with stolen kisses and soft whispers as the light filters into their master bedroom, and end with Felicity’s frantic babbling as she tries to get ready quickly (because _someone_ distracted her and made her lose track of the time). In the afternoon, Oliver jogs while she holds agonizingly professional teleconferences that never seem to end. Five pm has ridiculously delicious smells from Oliver’s cooking filtering from the kitchen to the living room, and Felicity moves to join him and watch him make some new, complicated main course. They wait for Oliver’s attempts at MasterChef to finish baking and share one or two stories they’ve never told anyone. Felicity tells Oliver more about her dad, and Oliver tells her about the island, but the bad memories are quickly forgotten over cordon bleu or ravioli or soufflé. Then they plop themselves on the too-soft couch they bought their second day in Ivy Town, in front of whatever baseball game is on that night. Felicity cradles her overfull stomach while she struggles to sit up straight, her head resting on Oliver’s shoulder as his face scrunches in concentration.

Usually, Felicity loves the comfortable pattern they’ve found. She loves that it’s the normal they haven’t had in far too long. She loves that it’s comfortable and predictable. She loves that nearly every part of her day includes Oliver.

But tonight, she’s bored. And baseball – shockingly enough, with her complete lack of any sports knowledge – is not enough to distract her.

She rolls herself away from her boyfriend and the sunken cushions of the couch and reaches for her tablet, tapping the screen with her pointer finger until the familiar white and blue of the Facebook app fills the screen.

She scrolls halfheartedly, the five updates her mother had shared over the past twenty minutes reminding her why she doesn’t go on more often, when she spots a name she recognizes in the corner of the screen.

_Laurel Lance._

Felicity’s face twists in confusion and she taps a finger against her chin, trying hard to remember why that name sounds familiar, and…it comes to her.

Oliver. Oliver dated her.

“Hey, hon?” she asks, not sure if she wants to broach the subject with him.

They’ve been officially dating – what, two weeks? Is it appropriate to bring up exes that close to the beginning of their relationship?

They’ve been friends for years, so she deems it acceptable.

“Hmm?” he responds, not once taking his eyes from the television.

“You dated a Laurel Lance, right?”

“Oh, um,” he starts uncomfortably, his shoulders tensing slightly as his gaze shifts to her. “Yeah, I did. Why do you ask?”

“Facebook recommended her to me as a friend, and I think I’m going to look at her profile.”

She should probably worry that her first response is to essentially stalk one of Oliver’s exes, but she’s bored and insanely curious. Sue her.

“She’s a lawyer now. ADA, even. That’s pretty impressive, Oliver.”

He makes a noncommittal sound and returns his full attention to the game, clearly done hearing about the ex-girlfriend she’s never met.

She decides to let it go for now, but she has a feeling it won’t be the last time she views Laurel Lance’s Facebook profile.

*****

“She’s taking boxing lessons. And she’s four months pregnant. This girl is amazing, Oliver. Honestly. I mean, I know Slade said something about you liking stronger women when he threatened me that time, but I figured he was talking more about the physically strong, you know? Which, I mean, I guess she is since she takes boxing and-”

“Felicity. Who are you talking about?”

“Oh. Right. Umm, Laurel. Lance. I’m kind of on her profile again,” Felicity admits shyly, biting her lip and tilting her face away.

It’s not like she _means_ to be a stalker. (At least not in the creepy ‘I’ll follow you home and steal locks of your hair’ kind of way.) But it’s been two months since Felicity started checking Laurel’s profile, and Laurel is oddly fascinating. What kind of lawyer boxes when they’re four months pregnant?

“Huh,” is Oliver’s only reply.

*****

“She’s going to be the maid of honor at her sister’s wedding,” Felicity offers with no preamble.

Oliver sighs deeply and drags a hand hard over his scruff as he watches her.

“Please tell me you’re not still stalking my ex-girlfriend.”

“At this point it’s just fun.”

“Uh huh.”

“And her sister’s colors are gold and green. Is she a Packers fan? Is that what’s happening?”

She pauses, looking at the picture of Laurel’s younger sister carefully. “Her sister looks like a sports fan,” she decides resolutely.

“I’m not sure I even knew she had a sister,” Oliver admits awkwardly. “Wasn’t exactly that involved in any aspect of her life that wasn’t, well...” he trails off, rubbing the back of his neck.

Felicity just rolls her eyes emphatically.

“Yeah yeah yeah, I get it. Frat boy and leggy supermodel, classic teenage romance. As romantic and deep as a puddle.”

His brows knit together, his special Felicity smile tugging at the edges of his lips as his eyes narrow affectionately.

“Yeah,” he huffs out, his eyes softening as he looks at her. “Not quite the meaningful adult relationship we have.”

And yeah, after that, it’s understandable that the stalking gets put off for activities of the _meaningful adult relationship_ variety.

*****

Felicity has been stalking Laurel Lance on social media for nearly seven months when she finally sees a picture of Laurel’s baby girl. The baby is cradled close to her mother where she rests in the hospital bed, wisps of dark hair contrasting with Laurel’s blonde, mother and baby looking as content and happy as mother and baby can be.

 _She just had a baby and she still looks that perfect?_ Felicity can’t help but think helplessly. Sometimes the world really just isn’t fair.

“Oliver, she had her baby!” she calls excitedly from her seat on the sunken couch cushions.

She’s been sharing random pieces of information with Oliver for the past seven months, her curiosity and fact-finding too interesting to keep to herself. Oliver had nodded distractedly on a good day and hummed curtly on a bad day, but his interest in Laurel Lance apparently didn’t come close to her own. Weird.

“Oh my God, Oliver, you have to see her. Charlotte Adeline Lance. She’s precious. And Laurel looks perfect after having the baby. You know, sometimes I have to wonder why you left this girl in the first place,” she states, shifting her tablet across her lap for Oliver to get a better view of the picture. “I mean, a lawyer, mom, boxer, reformed alcoholic, supermodel-”

“Felicity,” Oliver says seriously, his face closer than she had anticipated. She starts a little at his proximity and serious tone, but manages to stop the squeak that threatens to escape.

“Yeah?”

“I’ve never seen this girl before in my life.”

“You…what?” Felicity asks, beyond completely confused. “But you dated a Laurel Lance. And this is Laurel Lance.”

“Felicity, honey, I’m telling you, that’s not my ex-girlfriend.”

“Oh…but… _oh._ ” Somehow, in all the months of stalking the impressive blonde woman, Felicity never noticed the name in parentheses at the bottom of the page. “Her first name is Dinah. In the parentheses at the bottom. Dinah Laurel Lance. So definitely not the one you dated.” She pauses, a frightening realization finally entering her mind. “Did I just _stalk_ a _stranger_ for _seven_ _months_?”

Oliver’s eyes are alight with laughter, but he’s trying desperately not to laugh. He bites his lips and turns his attention to the ceiling, but Felicity can still see that it’s taking nearly everything in him to not laugh at her.

“Seven months, Oliver. _Seven months_. I stalked some random girl. I…wow.”

He finally releases the laugh he’d been trying to suppress and places a hard kiss to her temple, chuckling all the way up the stairs and toward their bedroom.

*****

It takes Felicity nearly an entire week to overcome the intense embarrassment and find the humor in the situation. And when she finally does, she can’t help but draft a message to the random woman she’d been stalking for over half a year.

_Hi, you don’t know me, but this is kind of a funny story…_

*****

And that’s the story of how Felicity Smoak met her best friend.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are always welcome!
> 
> And if you like what I write, feel free to chat or send prompts to taxingtaurus.tumblr.com.


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